HOT TOPICS:

A tale of two hamsters: one, cuddly and energetic; the other ... exploring, somewhere in the house?

Pioneer Press

Posted:
02/20/2013 12:01:00 AM CST

Updated:
02/20/2013 05:26:38 PM CST

Writes Booklady: "The chapter on pet rodents can't be closed until the story of the incomparable Duke has been told.

"It started with the dreaded permission slip. The fourth-grade classes were hosting a poet-in-residence for a week, and he was offering a hamster as the prize for the best hamster poem. Figuring the odds were long, we signed the paper. When Son Two received an honorable mention, we sighed with relief, until he argued that since we had given permission for a hamster, he now should be allowed to have one. Son One chimed in, and suddenly we had TWO hamsters.

"Son One's choice, Goldie, was a cuddly and energetic beast, who spent her entire life running in her wheel when she was not being handled.

"Duke had a darker nature. Only Son Two could pick him up; others, he bit. He was a determined escape artist, foiling every attempt to contain him. While Goldie was content in her cage or the Habitrail, Duke must have spent his time concocting plans to explore the vast unknown territory of the house. Most times, we discovered him in Son Two's bedroom or in the living room.

"One day, he was nowhere to be found, and his life would have ended if I hadn't gone downstairs to do laundry. Duke had somehow managed to go swimming in the sump-pump pit, and there was no way he would have gotten out by himself.

"His next adventure took him to another uncharted region, where I found him, after several days' absence, in the closet of the sub-basement.

Advertisement

He had made himself a nest in the corner from the chewed Styrofoam of Son Two's chemistry set. When I bent to retrieve him, he bit me.

"We had him for nearly two years, and although he never ventured so far again, he escaped at every opportunity. When he went to Hamster Heaven, Son Two lovingly buried him where the sandbox had been and erected a wooden plaque, woodburned with the epitaph: 'Duke. He was a good hamster.' "

Our times

The Doryman of Prescott, Wis.: "Subject: Artificial incineration.

"I saw someone sucking on one of those electronic cigarettes in a bar recently. They are hard to miss because the end lights up (choice of colors) when you drag on them.

"I admire anyone trying to quit smoking, but, when they're used in public, I wonder if it is possible to die of second-hand embarrassment."

Vanity, thy name is...

TEEJ in STP: "The plate parked at my neighborhood SuperAmerica was 'TALBOT.' I almost wanted to ask the owner if his name was Lawrence."

Rusty of St. Paul: "A couple of weeks ago, I was driving in northern Wisconsin and spied a deer carcass in the ditch with a baldie on one end and a raven on the other -- about 4 feet apart!

"I've never seen both species on a deer at the same time. Both my wife and I have driven around curves on county roads and spooked an eagle off a deer. Each time we were 'this close' to whacking the bird with our passenger-side windshield. In my case, the bird was madly beating its wings backwards to go in reverse. Close calls!

"It wasn't safe to stop on the highway to snap a picture of the eagle and the raven; plus, I think they would have fled. But a couple hours later, I did stop in Clear Lake, where there is predictably a flock of swans present at the town park, as a local business discharges warm, clean wastewater into the pond; thus it stays open."

Fellow travelers

Charlotte Bronte-Saurus: "Vacations are such fun. I know I should be getting excited. Fun to spend time with the rellies. Fun to see new places or revisit treasured old places. Fun to fly on smelly, crowded airplanes and navigate the stockyard chutes and corrals of bustling city airports.

"My family's previous big-deal trip took us to Glacier Park via Amtrak, and I loved the ease of the trip and the relaxed atmosphere of the station and the ride and the magnificent destination.

"So I was thrilled, as I always am when I vacation with my family, to be involved in this new adventure: visiting the Grand Canyon; thrilled until I realized that I must travel to Arizona by plane. When traveling via rail, you can't get there from here without a weeks-long national meander. Yes, I know. It's outrageous.

"I'm psyching myself for this trip, as I'm already suffering airplane claustrophobia and there are weeks left before I even leave home.

"I used to fly occasionally for business. The excitement of jet-setting quickly lost its glamour, and flying is worse now. More people, more scrambling, more headaches; less customer service and less space. At this point in my life, I crave comfort. Flying has none.

"The anxiety level of my preparations for this trip had been ratcheting up -- until I remembered an incident that occurred on a vacation with my family in the U.K.

"Famished for supper, we found an Indian restaurant on a side street in Wales. It boasted a dimly lit, romantic interior where one needed to use the small votive candle on the table to read the menu. Enough light leaked though the pierced tin lanterns hanging from the ceiling to keep the waitpersons from stumbling over each other. We were apprehensive about the condition of the place, considering it was so feebly lit. But we used the standard criterion for minimum restaurant hygiene: Our shoes weren't sticking to the carpet. Always a good sign.

"Once seated, I excused myself and made my way to the Ladies' Room, relieved to find it clean enough.

"When finished, I headed back to our table on the far side of the room, but noticed through the gloom that my family members had ceased their conversation to devote their complete attention to me as I carefully navigated between the tables, bright, welcoming smiles on their American faces. Other diners were also strangely attentive to my progress.

"You'll be relieved to hear it wasn't a skirt hem tucked into my underwear, nor was my coat on backwards. My performance consisted of lighting up the gloaming with a long ribbon of white toilet paper trailing from the bottom of my shoe -- all starkly noticeable as I roamed unaware in the gloaming.

"We all had a good laugh about it and discussed my encore, perhaps spilling wine on myself or choking on my Tandoori chicken.

"In retrospect, I was only slightly embarrassed to display my foreign awkwardness; rather, my table companions lent a feeling of security that surrounded me like a warm snuggie. In their smiling acceptance, my family was telling the other diners: 'Sure, she's a dork. But she's OUR dork.'

"I'll be keeping this in mind as I travel, trusting my sweetly indulgent family's companionship to block out the other annoyances -- likely more responsibility than they want.